The Firebrand

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  CONCHA SAYS AMEN

  Looking down from their station on the roof, Rollo and the friar couldsee what appeared to be the main force of the gipsies drawing nearthrough the alleys of the wood. They approached in no order or militaryformation, which indeed it was never their nature to adopt. But theycame with a sufficiency of confused noise, signalling and crying one toanother through the aisles of the forest.

  "They are telling each other to spread out on the wings and encircle thehouse on the north," whispered Rollo in a low voice to the Basque friarby his side.

  The monk laughed a low chuckling laugh.

  "They will find the holy Hermitage equally well guarded on that side!"he said. And as they stood silent the rose of dawn began slowly tounfold itself over the tree-tops with that awful windless stillnesswhich characterises the day-breaks of the south. The glades of the woodwere filled with a glimmering filmy light, in which it was easy toimagine the spirits of the dead hovering over their earthly tenements.

  The gipsies came on as usual, freely and easily, land pirates on theirown ground, none able to make them afraid. They had been checked, it istrue, at the palace. The royal guard (so they imagined) seemed to havereturned unexpectedly thither, contrary to their information, but on theother hand they had successfully plundered all the storehouses, cellars,and _despachos_ of the great square.

  Some of them still carried _botas_ of wine (the true "leather bottel")in their hands or swung across their shoulders, and ever and anon took aswig to keep their courage up as they came near. Some sang and shouted,for were they not going to rout the lazy monks, always rich in money andplate, out of their lurking places? Was it not they who had first triedto make Christians of the Romany, and by so doing had shown thegovernment how to entrap them into their armies, subjecting the freeblood of Egypt to their cursed drafts and conscriptions?

  "To the knives' point with them, then!" they shouted. "They who prate somuch of paradise, let them go thither, and that with speed!" This wouldbe a rare jest to tell for forty years by many a swinging kettle, andwhile footing it in company over many a lonely and dispeopled heath.

  Thus with laughter and shouting they came on, and to Rollo, peeringeagerly over the battlements, the white-wrapped corpses along the wallsseemed to turn slowly blood-red before his eyes--the flaunting crimsonof the sky above contrasting with the green of the woods, and tingingeven the white shrouds with its ominous hue. But still the gipsies cameon.

  First of all strode the man who had called himself the Executioner ofSalamanca, Ezquerra, he who had saved the life of Jose Maria upon thescaffold. He came forward boldly enough, intending to thunder with hisknife-handle upon the great door. But at the foot of the steps hestopped.

  Looking to either hand, he saw, almost erect within their niches, astrange pair of figures, apparently wrapped in bloody raiment from headto foot. He staggered back nerveless and shaken.

  "What are these faceless things?" he cried; "surely the evil spirits arehere!" And in deadly fear he put his hand before his eyes lest hisvision should be blasted by a portent.

  And from the other side of the Hermitage came an answering cry of fear.

  "Be brave, Ezquerra!" called out one behind him; "'tis nothing--onlysome monk's trick!"

  Ezquerra over his shoulder cast a fierce glance at the speaker.

  "Brother," he cried, "you who are so full of courage that you can supplyothers, go up these steps and find out the trick for yourself!"

  Nevertheless through very pride of place as their temporary leader,Ezquerra set his feet once more to the steps and mounted. The shroudedfigures grew less red as he approached.

  "After all it is some trick!" he shouted angrily. "We will make thefools pay for this! Did they think to practise the black art upon thosewhose fathers have used all magic, black and white, for ten thousandyears?"

  So saying he set his hand to the face-cloth of the nearest figure andplucked it away. Then was revealed to his affrighted and revolted gazethe features swollen and bloated of one who had died of the BlackPlague.

  At the same moment, and before his followers could set their hands totheir mouths or retreat a step, round both corners of the building therecame a double swarm of gipsies, running at random through the tangle ofthe wood and streaming frantically along the paths.

  The Executioner of Salamanca also turned and ran down the steps.

  "Touch the thing who will!" he cried; "I have done with it!"

  And the entire attacking party with their knives and sledge-hammerswould in like manner have fled, but for a strange and unlooked-for eventwhich happened at that moment.

  As Rollo peered over the low parapet, he saw a slight form rush suddenlyacross the front of the fleeing gipsies, shouting at and striking thefugitives. And even at that distance he was sure that it must be thedaughter of Munoz, whom he had left captive in La Granja. She had beensafely enough locked in the castle--how then had she escaped? Heremembered the Sergeant's last threat that he would have someconversation with Senor Munoz. He wondered if the girl's escape hadanything to do with that. That it was not impossible to escape from thepalace, the presence of Concha Cabezos upstairs informed him.

  But all theorising of this kind was stopped at sight of the vehementanger of the girl, and of the evident power she had over these wild andsavage men. She did not even hesitate to strike a fugitive with herclenched fist if he attempted to evade her. Nay, in her fury she drew aknife from Ezquerra's belt and struck at the throat of the Executionerof Salamanca.

  So vehement was her anger and so potent her influence, that the girlactually succeeded in arresting more than half the fleeing gipsies.Some, however, evaded her, and she would stay her headlong course amoment to send a fierce curse after them.

  "She is crazed!" thought Rollo; "her wrongs have driven her mad!"

  But the sight of that glimmering array of plague-stricken sentinelswaiting for them still and silent in the red dawn, was more than thefortitude of the rallied forces could stand. Upon approaching theHermitage the gipsies again showed symptoms of renewed flight.

  Whereupon the girl, shrilly screaming the vilest names at them and inespecial designating Ezquerra as the craven-hearted spawn of an obscenecanine ancestry, mounted the steps herself with the utmost boldness andconfidence.

  "I will teach you," she screamed; "I, a girl and alone, will show youwhat sacks of straw ye are frighted of. Do ye not know that the greatprize is here, within this very house, behind these defenceless windowsand cardboard doors? The Queen of Spain, whose ransom is worth twice tenthousand _duros_, even if your coward hearts dared not shed her blackBourbon blood. Behold!"

  It was only by craning far out over the parapet (so far indeed that hemight easily have been discovered from below had there been any to look)that Rollo was able to see what followed. But every eye was fixed on thegirl. No one among all that company had even a glance to waste upon theskyline of the Ermita de San Ildefonso.

  This was the thing Rollo saw as he looked.

  The girl spurned the fallen face-cloth with her bare foot, and catchingthe body of the dead man in her arms, she dragged it out of its nicheand cast it down the steps upon which it lay all abroad, half revealedand hideous in the morning light. This done, rushing back as swiftly andwith the same volcanic energy to the occupant of the other niche, shehurled him by main force after his companion. Then, panting and wan,with her single tattered garment half rent from her flat ill-nourishedbody, she lifted one arm aloft in triumph and cried, "There, you dogs,that is what you were afraid of!"

  But even as she stood thus revealed in the morning light, a low murmurof terror and astonishment ran round all who saw her. For in thestruggle the girl had uncovered her shoulder and breast, and there, uponher young and girlish skin, appeared the dread irregular blotches whichbetrayed the worst and most deadly form of the disease.

  "The Black Plague! The Black Plague!" shrieked the throng of besiegers,surging this way and that like a flock of sheep w
hich strange dogsdrive, as with wild and shrill cries they turned and fled headlongtowards the mountains.

  The girl, speechless with wrath, and perhaps also with thedeath-sickness far advanced within her, took a step forward as if tofollow them. But forgetful of where she stood, she missed her footing,fell headlong, and lay across the dead sentinel whom she had firstdragged from his post.

  The Basque priest looked over Rollo's shoulder and pointed downwardswith a certain dread solemnity.

  "What did I tell you?" he said. "The finger of God! The finger of Godhath touched her! Let us go down. The sun will be above the horizon intwenty minutes."

  "Had we not better wait?" urged Rollo. "They may return. Think of ourresponsibility, of our feeble defences, of----"

  "Of Concha," he was about to say, but checked himself, and addedquietly, "of the little Queen!"

  The monk crossed himself with infinite calm.

  "They will not return," he said; "it is our duty to lay these in thequiet earth ere the sun rises. There is no infection to be feared tillan hour after sunrise."

  "But the girl, the daughter of Munoz?" said Rollo, "did not she take thedisease from the dead?"

  "Nay," said the Basque. "I have often beheld the smitten of the plaguelike that. It works so upon very many. For a time they are as it werepossessed with seven devils, and the strength of man is vain againstthem. They snap strong cords even as Samson did the Philistine withes.Then--puff! Comes a breath of morning air chill from the Sierra, andthey are gone. They were--and they are not. The finger of God hathtouched them. So it was with this girl."

  "I will follow you!" said Rollo, awe-stricken in spite of himself. "Tellme what I am to do!"

  The monk pressed his hand again to his brow a little wearily. "I fear,"he said, "that it will fall to you to perform the greater part of thework. For Brother Domingo, our good almoner, he of the merrycountenance, died of his fatigues early this morning, and the other two,my brethren, are once more in the town bringing God to the dying!"

  Instinctively Rollo removed his hat from his head.

  "But," added the monk, "they dug the graves in holy ground before theywent!"

  In silence Rollo permitted himself to be covered with an armour offreshly tarred cloth, which was considered in Spain at that time to bea complete protection against plague infection. The monk Teodoro wasproceeding to array himself in like manner, when Concha appeared besidethem and held out her hands for the gauntlets.

  "The little Princess is asleep," she said eagerly; "I am strong. I haveas good a right to serve God as either of you--and as great is my need!"

  The Basque gazed at her curiously. Her hair was still wholly covered bythe sailor's red cap. To the eye she appeared a mere boy in her page'sdress, but there was at all times something irresistibly attractiveabout Concha's face. Now her lips quivered sensitively, but her eyeswere steady. She continued to hold out her hands.

  "I demand that you permit me to serve God!" she cried to BrotherTeodoro.

  The monk shrugged his shoulders with a pitying gesture and looked fromone to the other.

  "I am an old dragoon," he said, "and under the guidons of _El Gran'Lor'_ I have seen the like. It is none of my business, of course, butall the same it is a pity. I should be happier to leave you watching theslumbers of the Princess!"

  "Ah!" cried Concha, earnestly, "if you are indeed an old soldier, and agood one under guidon or holy cross--for this time let me be one also!"

  "You are young--I pray you, think!" urged the Basque. "There is greatdanger! Look at that maid yonder, and what she hath brought on herself."

  "Ah," said Concha, softly--so softly indeed as to be almostinaudible, "but the difference is that she did this thing forhate--while--I--I----"

  She did not finish her sentence, but raising her eyes, wet withseldom-coming tears, to those of the stern-faced brother, she saidinstead, "Give me the dress and let us be gone. The sun is rising!"

  "If you are indeed determined, you shall have that of Brother Domingo,"said Teodoro; "he was of little more than your height, and died, not ofthe plague, but simply from doing his duty."

  "Then let me die in no other way!" said Concha, putting it on as happilyas another maiden might dress for a ball.

  These three went out to their terrible task, and as they were harnessingthe bullock cart once more and spreading a clean cloth over it, Rollo,moved in his heart of hearts, came near. Never did two such lovers asthey meet more strangely arrayed. Yet he laid his black gauntlet acrossher arm and whispered a word which Brother Teodoro did not hear, being,as he took good care to be, much busied about the straps andharnessings.

  "I do not think that Love will let us die--yet!" he said.

  "That is a prayer. Amen!" said Concha, in a whisper, lifting her eyes tohis.

  It was a strange betrothing, and little said. But when at last he putthe ox-goad in her hands, Concha knew that the night had indeed passedaway and that the morning was come.